If The Chronicles
by Pixeh Pixeh Pixeh
Summary: This is a fic based on a poem which I love. Set after the G-boys have gone their seperate ways, someone is taking out diplomats. They must all meet again to find out what is going on and confront some long buried personal demons. ch 1-3 up, ch 4 pending.
1. If Tears of a Clown

Chapter one: tears of a clown  
  
If you can keep your head when all about you  
  
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,  
  
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you  
  
But make allowance for their doubting too,  
  
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,  
  
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,  
  
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,  
  
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise  
  
*********  
  
"And next up ladies and gentlemen! All the way from the Spanish plains, brought here by your favourite circus, The amazing, the astounding, the sim- ply maaaarvelous, death defying knife artistes! Give them a warm round of applause ladies and gentlemen, Trowa and Katerina!"  
  
The crowd went wild, beating applause into the air and threatening to cause damage to the stands with their stomping. Then the lights were lowered, and the whole ring went dark. The drumroll started quietly, and the audience hushed in anticipation. Small beams of colour started darting around the arena, lighting up flashes of movement. The drumroll steadily increased in volume as the audience gasped, catching a glimpse of a person darting through the shadows. The drumroll reached it's crescendo, climbing to deafening heights.  
  
"Help! Help me! Somebody hel-" the man's scream was cut short by the short and sharp sound of a gunshot. Screams broke out in the audience as people rushed to move away from the source of the noise. No one saw a face covered in a clown mask looking out from behind the huge curtain covering the backstage area. No one saw the circus folk rush out of that area, all armed with pistols and flashlights, searching out the source of violent interruption.  
  
"Move out men! He's somewhere in the B8 section. Track him down and apprehend him. Lethal force is permitted! Go, go, go, go, go!" the sergeant's loud voice boomed out and reached his men, all searching out their prey. The 16 clowns swept around the B8 seating area, first forming a circle around the stand's base, then closing in. but they closed in fully and still hadn't found him.  
  
"Serge, he's not here." One man breathed into his microphone. He ripped his ridiculous hat off and threw it on the ground. He walked over to the edge of the tent and looked out through a flap. Civilians were streaming out across the grounds.  
  
"Shit." The sergeant made a growling noise into his microphone and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he needed was to lose this guy. The assassin had taken out another victim, and he hadn't been there on time. Again. "Where is Trowa? Ask him if he can get princess Relena on the phone. She's the next logical target."  
  
"Uh, serge," the man hesitated, looked around and then turned his back to his men, speaking in hushed tones. "Serge, Trowa isn't here. He stayed behind when we came out."  
  
"He.stayed behind? He. Stayed. Behind." The mans voice was getting colder and harder with each syllable.  
  
"Uh," the corporal swallowed, looking panicked. "Yes. I think I saw him climbing the trapeze ladder."  
  
The sergeant looked up into the dark folds of the tent top. The lights were still all switched off, and he couldn't even tell where the top was.  
  
"I'm going to kill Trowa Barton." He sighed into the radio, not hearing the light hiss of ropes being let down behind him. He didn't even have time to look around before his blood was rushing out of his chest from a large exit wound.  
  
"Not if Trowa Barton kills you first." Came the toneless, expressionless reply.  
  
***********  
  
"Heero, I never thought you'd go out looking for trouble I always assumed it just found you." Trowa shoved his hands in his pockets and regarded the person holding the twin set of barrels aimed at his temples.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Heero lowered the guns and proceeded to go about taking the magazines out and cleaning them. The liked his guns, and he knew that although he wouldn't have them for long (he was the kind of guy who dropped his once he ran out of bullets for them and went on to the next one) he still liked to take care of them. There was a militarial kind of soothing to be found while polishing the cold metal of a machine that is designed to kill.  
  
"I came to tell you that OZ is on your track. They don't know it's you, but you're on the suspect list. You're on the suspect list for just about everything."  
  
"I suppose all five of us are. We haven't exactly done anything to prove our allegiance to OZ, have we?"  
  
"Shoulders toes and knees I suppose."  
  
"Thirty six degrees?" Heero picked up his gun and shoved them into the leg pockets of his black combats. He ripped his black spandex gloves off his hands and looked back at the burning circus tent.  
  
"That's right. So, who are you going to take out next?" Trowa knew he would answer the question, Heero wasn't the type to be shy or paranoid.  
  
"Relena Peacecraft. She is currently at her precious school, so at least I know where to find her."  
  
"Mind if I tag along? I have some things to take care of."  
  
"Catherine?" Heero nodded towards the huge duffel bag thrown over Trowa's shoulder and allowed his question to hang in the air. He knew that Trowa's sister hadn't made it through the shooting in the circus tent.  
  
"Yes." Trowa turned away and started walking towards a black jeep about twenty yards away. He only allowed one tear to fall down his face. Whats the use in crying over wasted lives? Wars killed. He knew that when he signed up. 


	2. If Child of Darkness, Child of Light

Chapter two: child of darkness, child of light  
  
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,  
  
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;  
  
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster  
  
And treat those two impostors just the same;  
  
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken  
  
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,  
  
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,  
  
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools  
  
**************  
  
"Come now Wufei, you have to realise, you can no more fight this war by yourself than you can bring back all the lives lost. It's futile to even think about it. Too many book and film hero's have done it, but it is impossible in real life." Quatre followed his fellow pilot around the room in exasperation. Wufei was tipping the place upside down looking for his sword.  
  
"I don't want to fight the war by myself onna. I want to kill one man. I'm sure it's not beyond even your weak nature to kill just one man."  
  
"Wufei! Too many lives have already been lost to go about killing more. Stop this foolishness now."  
  
"Foolish? Child, gravely ignorant is the one who calls Chang Wufei foolish. Now move! Where is my sword? Nataku curse the one who stands in my way."  
  
Quatre stepped out of his friend's path, and sat sadly down in the armchair near the window of Wufei's hospital room. "If your can see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wildflower," Quatre voiced his inner personal mantra, unknowingly mimicking the actions of the deceased sergeant as he massaged his frowning forehead and gazed at his rampaging fellow Gundam pilot.  
  
"If your can hold in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour." Wufei absentmindedly finished the quotation off before crashing onto the bed, flummoxed. "But what does William Blake have to do with anything baka? Tell me now exactly what I am supposed to do and how master Blake will help me do it?"  
  
"Wufei, I don't know what you have to do, but I know what you have to stop doing. Stop thinking that the wars of the world are your fault and your responsibility. Stop insisting on blaming yourself every time you can't manage to achieve one of the impossible tasks you have set yourself. Stop thinking that the world hates you if you don't succeed at everything. Everyone shows weakness at some time or other, it is part of human nature. It is perfectly natural and healthy."  
  
"I am a Gundam pilot, Quatre Winner. I am not allowed to make the same mistakes a human being allows himself to make. For every mistake I make, people lose their lives."  
  
"Not true. For every time your lash out with your Gundam, people lose lives. Or your sword. You are not Allah. You do no decide who lives or who dies. He does. You are just the agent that he sends to aid him with his task."  
  
"Tell that to your father." Wufei said cruelly before he walked out of the door, having remembered that he put his sword downstairs in the hospital lobby, buried deep in the foliage of one of the ornamental trees.  
  
***********  
  
"Now you have killed him, where will you go? What will you do next?" Quatre squinted up at Wufei, who was standing over the body of his latest victim.  
  
"I do not know. I suppose I will attempt to find the others." Up close, Colonel Burton was a weedy man, rat-like and weak. Hardly a worthy kill.  
  
"What did he do to you? What made you kill him? How did he wrong you in such away that it was necessary to take his life?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe Allah just thought it was time, ne?" Wufei let out a deep laugh, the first one he had let loose in ages.  
  
"You always were unnecessarily cruel." Quatre observed. "The remark about my father will not be forgotten."  
  
"Nor should it be."  
  
"Where do we go know? Where do you think the other pilots will be?"  
  
"Well, we know that a spate of attacks on world leaders has been taking place. We know that OZ thinks there is only one likely victim left, and we know that she runs her own school for the daughters of nations, girls poised to become leaders."  
  
"Heero?"  
  
"Relena." Wufei confirmed. "He will kill her, and then we can ask him if the doctors have given us new missions or Gundams."  
  
"Maybe we can get there before he kills her." Quatre was worried for the loss of a girl so bent on pacifism.  
  
"Maybe, maybe not." Wufei shrugged. "Either way, we're not going to stop him." 


	3. If Devil in Disguise

Chapter three: devil in disguise  
  
If you can make one heap of all your winnings  
  
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,  
  
And lose, and start again at your beginnings  
  
And never breathe a word about your loss;  
  
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew  
  
To serve your turn long after they are gone,  
  
And so hold on when there is nothing in you  
  
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"  
  
************  
  
"Man, there is nothing to do here! Howie my man, you can't whip something up can you? Anything that I can blow up?" Duo removed his legs from the desktop in order to swivel around and face his mechanic friend.  
  
"No can do amiga. I'm busy. Why don't you go blow up something small and fluffy?" Howard, used to Duo's fluctuating ideas of fun, just laughed and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose.  
  
"Dude, amigo. A-M-I-G-O. Not amiga, like chica, amigo, like chico. I'm a man."  
  
"Yeah. Sure." Howard scoffed; sensing Duo's annoyance.  
  
"Argh." Duo just growled and snatched his cap off the table. He crossed his arms and faced Howard, who was on a rolling board underneath a car. Duo stuck his nose up in the air and assumed an 'I-am-not-amused' stance. "Well, if you're not gonna be fun, I'm gonna go out."  
  
"Yeah, whatever man." Howard carried on fixing the car. He had to get it done within three days, and Duo wasn't going to help anyway, so he didn't mind if the pilot left.  
  
"Jeez, nice to know I have people who care about me. You just carry on playing with your new friend and just ignore me, ok?"  
  
"Fine then, thank you, I will."  
  
"Dude! If you're being serious, that's cruel." He stuck his nose further up in the air. "But if you're being sarcastic, well, that's even worse." Not wanting to get into a 'I'm-gonna-have-the-last-word' fight with Howard, he dashed out the door. Once he had closed it he jammed his cap low on his head and shoved his hands in his pants pockets.  
  
"Namida wo shitta doukeshi." Duo had heard Trowa mumbling the song once, and, with typical Duo enthusiasm, had adopted the line, whether it was to piss Trowa off, or just because it was a nice song.  
  
Walking slowly along the snow-filled pavement was nice. He hadn't seen snow for ages. Luckily he had boots on, he knew people who had kicked snow around and gotten a shoe-full of it. And freezing cold water in your shoes at sub-zero temperatures was not fun. He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and walked a bit faster, hunching up his shoulders to keep his neck at least a little warm. He should have grabbed a jacket on his way out, but it was too late to go back now. Plus, he could just stop in on a coffee shop and sit down for a bit, get something warm to drink.  
  
Up ahead, he spotted a group of little kids building a misshapen snowman. It was really sweet, but kind of pathetic.  
  
"Hmph. Any snow-dude I make would be bad-ass." He muttered to himself, watching his frozen breath rise and dissipate. Looking again at the kids, he spotted a bigger kid, hiding behind a tree trunk. He ha a rock in his hand and was aiming it right into the centre of the group of little ones. It was obvious he wanted to destroy the snow-dude.  
  
"Ack." What to do, what to do? Duo wasn't exactly one to complain about un- even odds, but bullying wasn't right. Well, if you were bullying Wufei, it was ok, but little kids didn't deserve to be picked on. Except maybe Marimea.. "Ack, again I say." He decided. Kneeling down, he gathered up a huge amount of snow with his bare hands. He packed and prodded it until the snowball was huge and tight, designed to explode on impact. With force.  
  
Aiming carefully, Duo inched forwards until he was maybe ten yards away from the big kid. He scooped up a loose handful of snow and flung it at the back of the kid's head. The little punk turned around, trying to see who had hit him. Except that he couldn't because Duo had just landed the snowball right in his face. Spluttering and gasping for cold, the kid clawed at his face and scowled.  
  
"Yeah, teach you to pick on little kids, derkus." Duo cackled and ran towards the punk, picked up the rock and walked off, the kid still spluttering away to himself.  
  
He laughed quietly to himself (trying at the same time not to sound totally insane) all the way to his favourite coffee shop. It wasn't Starbucks, but it was always warm and the people there knew him. Outside, a chubby guy in a T-shirt and a white serving apron was sweeping snow away from the front step.  
  
"Jesus Errol, it's freezing. Get inside."  
  
"God, wouldn't I love that. But I gotta sweep the step, Marie keeps stepping in the snow and complaining about it ruining her new shoes. Italian leather, 400 dollars. I ask you?"  
  
"Ha, just tell her to fly over it like all the other witches." Marie was Errol's daughter, 16 and as big a madam as they came. But Errol loved her more than anything, and come to think of it, Duo didn't mind her that much either. placing the rock he was carrying down and taking the broom from the store owner, Duo started sweeping the step. "Tell you what, I'll sweep and you go in and make the coffee." He said it cheerfully, he honestly didn't mind, and Errol looked like he was about to lose all his fingers to frostbite.  
  
"Heh, you're a good kid Duo. Just tell that daughter of mine when she comes in that I want her to fix the stereo." Errol waved and stepped into the shop, and Duo was momentarily bathed in warm light and air. But the door closed and he blew out hard, trying anything to warm up his already- starting-to-freeze face. He jabbed at the snow hard, but noted that this only succeeded in driving it deeper into the pavement.  
  
He was scowling good-naturedly and wondering how a Gundam pilot wasn't able to figure out the best way to sweep snow when the spot of snow he was studying was invaded by a pair of dark blue leather shoes.  
  
"Marie, we meet again." Duo leapt up and pretended to jab the girl with the broom.  
  
"Aah, Duo, I always knew you'd find your perfect job. One that fitted your intellect and physical abilities." She remarked dryly. She laughed and started undoing her long black coat. Duo spotted a dark purple polo neck sweater and short denim skirt.  
  
"Hmm, I was born into a sweeper group. But you didn't know that, did you?" he bent down and propped his chin on his hands, which were frozen to the end of the broom.  
  
"No, I didn't." she frowned, and Duo worried that she thought he was lying or joking. But then her face cleared and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on. The step is fine. Just push the rest of the snow off the edge of the step and come inside. Dad's criminal, making you work in this weather."  
  
"And you're criminal for spending $400 on a pair of shoes!" her father, working the coffee machine inside, remarked as they came in.  
  
"Ah, but they're nice shoes. Just prop the broom behind the counter. I'll go get the cookies. I know you like the big gooey ones." She lifted up the service flap and took the broom into a room behind the kitchen while Duo sat on a high chair by the counter. She came out a minute later dressed in a clean white serving apron with a tray of huge chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven. She slid them onto a plate and them the plate onto a heated display case. She picked up the tongs and pointed at him, and then the cookies. "Point." She ordered.  
  
"Ahhhh, hmmm. It's a tough one." Duo jokingly mused. In reality he knew exactly which one he wanted. The biggest, with the most chocolate chips. He had his eye on it and his finger was gearing up for the point.  
  
"Grrr. Point, or no cookie for Mister Maxwell." Then she followed his eyes and smiled when she spotted what he was after.  
  
"That on-" too late. Her hand had snaked out and grabbed the cookie, and she was happily munching on it, while Duo let out wails of mock despair. "But I wanted that one!" he sobbed into his arm.  
  
"Well.. You can still have it." she opened her mouth to reveal chewed up cookie crumbs. She giggled and turned away, waking into the back room again.  
  
"Alas fair cookie, I knew you well." Duo mourned into his arm.  
  
"Duo, what is the matter?" Errol ambled over to duo and regarded him with concerned eyes.  
  
"Your evil daughter hath played upon my good intentions, twisted them and brought about evil deeds." Duo answered the question in the mans eyes in a more concise way. "She ate the biggest cookie."  
  
"Again?" Errol just shook his head sadly and made sympathetic clucking noises. "When are you gonna learn man? Don't look at the cookie you want! Don't do it!" Errol laughed and strode away, as Marie came through the door with another tray of cookies.  
  
"Fine. I'll let you have the biggest one this time." Marie smiled victoriously and pointed to a cookie roughly ten inches in diameter.  
  
"Score!" Duo pushed his hand into the air and brought it down sharply, then pretended to do his little victory dance. "I get da biggest cookie! I get da biggest cookie!"  
  
"Here's your cookie, heres your coffee." Marie plonked down a plate with the cookie on it and a cup of steaming coffee next to it. "So, tell me whats new in your life? What you doing?" she leaned on the counter and propped her chin in her hand, listening as he told her about his week.  
  
"Not much, fixing cars 'n junk. Not so much fun as some of the stuff I used to do." He added thoughtfully "Fewer risks though. And a lot less pain." He closed his eyes and drank his coffee, picking apart the cookie with a spare hand.  
  
"Hey! Are you gonna eat that, or are you gonna take it apart?" Marie cried out indignantly, quickly forgetting his sad words at the prospect of losing such a masterpiece to his nervous gestures.  
  
"Nah, you have it. I've lost my appetite." He stood up, tossed some bills on the counter and said goodbye to Marie and her father. "I'm gonna be going on a little ... trip. Maybe I'll be back soon, maybe not. It all depends on all the symbols in the equation.  
  
As he walked out, Marie nibbled on the forgotten cookie and turned to her father.  
  
"Wow. He's really strange, don't ya think? A devil in disguise, a dark horse."  
  
Errol gazed at Duo, stopping by the entrance to pick something up, then walking through the near blizzard with no coat, gloves or scarf.  
  
"No. Not really. He's just. one of a kind." 


	4. If When the Music Stops

Chapter four: When the music stops  
  
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,  
  
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,  
  
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;  
  
If all men count with you, but none too much,  
  
If you can fill the unforgiving minute  
  
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,  
  
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,  
  
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!  
  
***********  
  
"There's someone standing there. I think it's a man."  
  
"Have you got your gun?" the boy didn't even bother to whisper. He wouldn't mind fighting whatever was out there, so why bother to hush his voice?  
  
"Of course I have my gun. You know I have my gun." Annoyed, the other snapped back and looked again at the figure standing by the wall. It was briefly lit by a lighter. The small circle of light showed a face shrouded by a cap and a figure dressed in black.  
  
A small noise came from behind them, and the boy watching the figure snapped around, surprised. Even if he didn't want to admit it.  
  
A small laugh came from his partner.  
  
"Relax. It's Quatre and Wufei. I've been watching them sneak up on us for some time."  
  
"Oh." Trowa turned around and watched as the two pilots came towards them. Both were dressed in black, Quatre wearing a black hooded top as well, to cover his light hair. Wufei held his own head high and jumped calmly from log to log, as though carefree. His blonde partner was slightly more nervous. Quatre wanted to be able to persuade Heero to leave Relena alone, but at the same time acknowledged that this was impossible.  
  
Trowa looked back at the figure that had been standing by the wall, but it was gone. He looked around, his face a mask of non-feeling. The wind moved through the tree above him, and he turned to the other pilots.  
  
"Our man is gone. I didn't see what way he moved off in. He could be anywhere."  
  
"Well done Barton. This is what we get for making a clown head of security." Wufei snapped impatiently.  
  
"Listen justice-boy. Maybe if your hadn't decided to crash through the bushes on your way over, he wouldn't have got away.  
  
"Listen guys. Can't we just forget this? I mean, whats to gain by killing Relena? Only more bloodshed. Why do we need to do this?"  
  
"The people need real hopes, not false ones. Human beings need to fight to feel alive. We are animals. Total pacifism will never be realised, more lives are only lost in the process of trying to find it."  
  
"Total pacifism is Relena's unicorn." Came a voice from the branches. All four boys on the ground turned towards it quickly, Trowa Heero and Wufei whipping out guns and pointing them at the branches. "So what've we got here? A little reunion? Aw, how come I didn't get an invite?"  
  
"Come out, however you are!" Trowa barked at the tree. He could vaguely see a black clad figure sitting on some of the higher branches, but it kept moving around. It wasn't a good enough target for him to risk taking a shot at it. He was too close to the house. People would hear it and come out.  
  
And that would be bad.  
  
"Well, well, well. You weren't really watching me too closely, now were you? If you'd been paying attention you'd've seen me creep over here and climb this here tree. But ya didn't. That's one point to me, zero to you." The figure jumped out of the branches and landed lithely on his hands and feet before straightening up.  
  
"Duo!" Quatre exclaimed, surprised and glad to see his friend again.  
  
"Hey guys, put the guns down, I'm here on friendly terms!"  
  
"Maxwell! What the hell do you think you're doing? This is a serious mission!" Wufei barked, putting his gun back in its place.  
  
"Aw Wuffers, you know you missed me!" Duo teased.  
  
"Weakling! How dare you call me that! My name is Wufei! Chang Wufei! Not Wuffers! Not Wu-wu!"  
  
"Wu-wu. hmm, that's a new one. Never thought of that before."  
  
"Shut up Duo. Come on the rest of you," Trowa began moving away from the house, towards the van parked a mile or two away. "This has been enough surveillance for tonight. We'll come back tomorrow."  
  
**********  
  
When they were all seated in the van, Heero polishing his gun, Quatre looking out the window, Trowa and Wufei comparing the knives and equipment they had brought, and Duo apparently dozing in the corner, there was silence. No one had anything in particular to say and no one really wanted to say anything. Also, when Duo's mouth was shut, there was generally a lot less noise.  
  
"When are we going back?" Duo tipped his cap up a fraction, revealing a glint of his eyes.  
  
"Tomorrow. We might not hit tomorrow, but we go back and scope it out again at least." Came Heero's reply.  
  
"Man, do you have any idea what you're doin'? Or how?"  
  
Heero didn't reply, he just gave Duo a cold look and carried on polishing his guns.  
  
"Maxwell, try not to get us killing each other before tomorrow. Do that for us, ne?"  
  
"Come on 'Fei, you know this is a goose chase."  
  
"The only goose I see, weakling, is you."  
  
" Ooh, that was so mature. Tell us 'Fei, when do you plan to graduate kindergarten?"  
  
"Just shut up both of you." Cut in Quatre. "This situation is bad enough as it is without all of you trying to tear each other to pieces.  
  
"Trowa's the only one so far that hasn't done anything to offend anyone. And I of course." Heero's words, spoken quietly from the corner, caused an outburst from Duo, of course.  
  
"Oh man! You gotta be kidding me! You're the one who dragged us all down here on a chase after some stupid girl! This is not even worth my time, I can't believe I'm even here, the god of death-"  
  
"Duo, you talk too much." They were almost the first things that Trowa had said since getting into the van, and usually not enough to spark off a fight, but everybody was looking for a fight.  
  
"Yeah? And you talk too little! Maybe if you just opened your mouth once in a while to stop him "he gestured wildly at Heero, by now he had put his guns down and had his back to the others, gazing out the window and trying to formulate a plan "from doin something stupid, we wouldn't be in this mess!"  
  
"Duo, no one dragged you down here! We are here for each other, and we should be. We are the pilots. We survived the war, and now we have to help each other!" but in the ensuing scuffle between Wufei and Duo, Quatre's words were lost. But Heero and Trowa stepped in, Heero holding Wufei back and Trowa holding the Deathscythe pilot.  
  
"Just both of you calm down!" shouted Trowa. "I think we all need to just calm down. Heero, you have some explaining to do."  
  
"About what? What could I possibly need to explain?"  
  
"Well first of all, why are you so intent on killing Relena? What is it about this girl, this one specific member of the human species that has got you so desperately intent on a massacre?" Heero said nothing, he just dropped Wufei and opened the door in the van that led to the front cab. He was silent as he climbed through, sat in the driver's seat and slammed the door.  
  
"Lunatic."  
  
"DUO! As if things aren't bad enough around here! Why do you feel the need to make stupid remarks?!" such an outburst from the ever quiet Quatre shocked even the talkative Deathscythe pilot into silence. "Now I'm going through there to talk to my friend. I hope that by the time I get back the rest of you have grown up enough that you're able to talk amongst yourselves without causing a damn war! I would have thought you guys, of all people would be able to understand a delicate situation when you saw one." Quatre climbed past Trowa and grabbed the handle of the cab door. "Work yourselves out, 'Kay?" with these lasts words he opened the hatch, climbed through and shut the door considerably less violently than Heero had.  
  
"Did he say.. Damn?"  
  
**********  
  
"Come on Heero. You're a smart guy, but even smart guys make stupid choices. Tell me what this is all about."  
  
"Quatre, you think you're pretty clever, don't you? You think you're the sensitive one of the group, the one that people like to talk to. Because you're sociable." Heero adjusted a dial on the dashboard and hot air blasted into the feet cavities. "Your cheap façade only serves to show how much of a bad person you are inside. To tell you the truth I would rather talk to Zechs and his many personalities about my life than you."  
  
"Last I heard big brother weren't overly keen to talk to the boys who deflowered their sisters. As a big brother myself, I happen to know that most prefer to pummel them into the ground."  
  
Taken aback, Heero squinted at Quatre in the dim light cast by the cloudy sky. "What the hell are you-"  
  
"Don't play innocent with me dipshit." This was a new Quatre, a Quatre that Heero had never seen before. His eyes shone with quiet malice and his forehead crowded forth in a violent sneer. "Have you ever heard of 'Yusaki syndrome'*? The syndrome whereby victims of violent or prolonged attacks, kidnap, rape, siege, robbery's etc, begin to identify and sympathise with their captors and victimisers? Renamed after Mariena Yusaki, the victim of a nine week siege by Japamerican terrorists, who, when finally released, refused to hear a bad word against her kidnappers. She wouldn't hold charges and even joined their organisation. All through consequent trials, she stuck up for them, refusing to say what they had done to her and refusing to admit that she had been kept there against her will. She eventually took a bullet for them. The American government attempt to assassinate their leader and she got in the way."  
  
"Nice, Winner. But what the hell does this have to do with me?"  
  
"Well Yuy, I think that our little Miss Peacecraft is suffering from a touch of Yusaki syndrome." Quatre settled back against the door on his side before continuing. "I have had quite a few chances to talk informally with Relena since the end of the war. It's been three years since operation meteor after all. And on almost all of the occasions that I have talked to her I have noticed a marked change in her behaviour when you are mentioned. She becomes introverted, drawing into herself and hugging herself, refusing to look into my eyes. But at the same time she refuses to say what is wrong, denying it has anything to do with you while simultaneously attempting to steer the conversation away from the topic. On one occasion I stepped outside to talk with a colleague and upon my return she was crying."  
  
"So?" Heero was adamantly obstinate, refusing to look at Quatre and refusing to allow himself to think of his friend's words.  
  
"So? SO? When the music stops Heero, stop dancing. I know what you did to her. I never ever thought that a guy like you would do something that hideous. I'm so incredibly disgusted and disappointed."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about? She just hates me because I refused to play her little game. I refused to pretend that the world was all sunshine and light. I never raped her."  
  
"Give it up Heero. I got really really worried about her, and I already had some suspicions what had happened, so I went to a few clinics, saying I was the brother of a girl called Relena and I was worried about her and had she been there? I struck out the first few times but hit gold with one about an hour away from where she lives. They just said she'd been in there some months ago and a few times after that. I went to see her and told her what I'd found out and she broke down and told me what happened."  
  
"Oh yeah? And what did she say?"  
  
"She said that about six months ago she had met up again with you. She had been talking to you again, trying to get you to "see the light and give up the violence". Afterwards you went for a walk together and when it was darker and no one was around you dragged her into some bushes."  
  
"You've got no proof."  
  
"No, I haven't, but I can get proof. The coffee shop you were in had CCTV. The park has CCTV at the gates. We can get footage of you two entering together."  
  
"But there's no proof I raped her. Not even that I touched her. So what if I attacked the little whore? She had it coming. She was begging for it, flirting with me and putting on her stupid false charms. I knew that if I gave her what she deserved she would shut up... and look, she did." Heero's voice had turned sneeringly smug cold. The only thing now was to find a way out of this mess.  
  
"Actually, there is proof. There's the skin that the clinic found under her fingernails," Quatre had been rapping a slow tattoo into the partition between the cab and the back and now he stopped so he could put his hands together in his lap, twiddling his thumb.  
  
"That doesn't prove anything. She scratched me."  
  
"The skin alone proves nothing," continued Quatre, even as the door behind Heero was pulled roughly open. As two armed security guards pulled Heero out by the arms, Quatre continued and pulled a small silver box from behind the sun visor "the skin alone proves nothing, but your confession proves everything. And, oh, would ya look at that? I got it all on tape."  
  
******  
  
*This is actually called "Stockholm syndrome". It really does exist, and I wanted to put it in there to 'explain' some of Relena's more. erhm. wacky behaviour. I recommend you look it up, it's interesting to read about.  
  
A/N: aaaah!!! Weak weak crappy ending. I'm sorry, this stupid fic was just being annoying and I wanted to get it out of the way. sorry! 


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